


Ticket to Ride

by PinkCanary



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4027798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkCanary/pseuds/PinkCanary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that Clarke and Bellamy are really super competitive.  Individually for sure, but when the two of them are competing against each other?  Fucking madness, every single time.  Game night can turn into a bloodbath in an instant.  Raven has permanently banned Jeopardy from their apartment TV.  It’s only a matter of time before someone ends up in the ER.</p><p> </p><p>Bellamy and Clarke are competitive fuckers.... literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket to Ride

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry. I was writing actual character-driven plot, and then I opened a new document and this happened. I am trash and this is my OT3.
> 
> Title is the title of a (actually really good) board game, if you don't recognize that one. And I'm also very sorry.

Everyone knows that Clarke and Bellamy are really super competitive. Like, really. Super. Insanely. Competitive.

Individually for sure, but when the two of them are competing against each other? Fucking madness, every single time. Game night can turn into a bloodbath in an instant. Raven has permanently banned Jeopardy from their apartment TV. She’s also frequently watched them descend on the dartboard at their regular Thursday night bar, as a means of settling some minor argument. It’s only a matter of time before someone ends up in the ER.

Anyway, it makes being in a relationship with them interesting, and occasionally a big fucking headache. But at least they’re always entertaining, and Raven is able to stay out of the crossfire for the most part. 

At least for awhile.

 

_**Risk** _

Raven can only roll her eyes on the first night that she notices them jostling each other near her hips. Clarke is scrappy, and she goes for a well-placed elbow to the ribs, but Bellamy simply has the advantage of size. He grabs Clarke’s hips and effortlessly rolls her on to her back, pinning her down on the mattress beneath him. His hands let go of her hips, only to wrap around her narrow wrists, pushing them up above her head and holding her down. And then he kisses her. The kiss is punishing and frantic and Raven thoroughly enjoys watching it, from her vantage point a few inches away. Clarke has just let out a loud moan against his lips, when Bellamy suddenly pulls back from her…. only for him to lunge down the bed to land neatly between Raven’s own thighs. 

Raven hasn’t even had a chance to tear her gaze away from the breathless and panting Clarke, and so she sees the exact moment when Clarke’s eyes snap open… even as Bellamy’s lips are already closing over Raven’s swollen clit. Clarke’s expression is dazed, but filled with grim understanding.

She might have lost this battle, but the war is far from over.

Clarke is able to use Bellamy’s own strategy against him a few days later. She palms his dick through his boxers, and Bellamy is left panting and shamelessly grinding his hips against her hand. Raven is enjoying the show, as she sits facing Clarke, their legs tangled together, and her hands stroking lightly up the inside of Clarke’s thighs. Because, well, _girls are soft and fun to touch_. Obviously. 

And so Raven sees the exact moment that Clarke’s lips twist into a smug half-smirk, and she has a second’s warning before Clarke is pushing her backwards on to the bed. Raven can feel Clarke smiling into her kisses, and her hand immediately slips down between Raven’s own thighs, to tease the soft skin there, just as Raven was doing to her seconds before. Because…. well, we’ve covered this. And it’s _awesome_. 

She can hear the frustrated groan from behind them, but Clarke doesn’t even bother to break away from the kiss to gloat. Her victory is obvious.

And the game intensifies.

 

**_Monopoly_ **

Late one night, Bellamy is working her through an orgasm, his fingers buried deep inside her. However, as the tremors wracking her lower body begin to slow, Bellamy simply replaces his thumb on her clit with his tongue, and begins to gently lick her swollen flesh. Raven is on board because _of course she is_ and she allows herself to relax into the mattress with a shaky groan. Bellamy manages to coax a second and then a third orgasm from her, before she is forced to pull gently on his hair, drawing him up from her oversensitive skin. 

The very next night, Raven feels almost a sense of deja vu, as Clarke eagerly eats her out. Of course, she knows exactly what they’re doing, but she’s not exactly going to call them out on it because orgasms are _awesome_. But, as Clarke’s tongue and fingers proceed with working her up for a second time, Bellamy suddenly ups the ante. 

Raven watches through hooded eyelids as Bellamy positions himself behind Clarke, gently lifting her hips into the air. She can’t see him sink into Clarke, from her position laying flat on the bed, but she definitely feels Clarke’s low groan vibrate against her sensitive skin. Raven moans in answer, and threads her fingers through Clarke’s disheveled hair. 

Clarke’s tongue is relentless against Raven’s clit, and she is helped along by the gorgeous visual that is Bellamy taking Clarke from behind. All too soon, Raven can feel herself being pushed over the edge for the second time. She struggles to catch her breath, as Clarke momentarily gentles her tongue… before continuing her determined ministrations. 

Suddenly, it’s a battle of wills. 

Clarke is much less focused in her movements, and Raven forces herself to keep her eyes open, so that she can watch both Clarke and Bell as they fuck. Clarke’s hips have begun to thrust backwards, snapping her ass back against Bellamy, as he digs his fingers into her skin so deeply that she is sure to have bruises tomorrow. Desperate, Clarke adds a third finger, and her voice is a breathy moan as she begs directly into Raven’s skin.

“Fuck, please Raven… You have to come…”

Bellamy gasps out a low _fuck…_ in response, and his hips snap faster against Clarke’s ass, and shit, watching the two of them is enough to completely undo Raven for a third time that night. She is just barely through the peak of her orgasm, when she feels Clarke withdrawing her fingers from Raven’s cunt, even as her tongue continues to move in erratic flicks. Clarke’s thrusts her hand between her legs and circles her own clit one, two, three times, before she is coming as well, arching her back and furiously pumping her hips against Bellamy. 

Her head comes to rest on Raven’s stomach, and Raven can feel her harsh breaths against her pelvic bone. When she looks up, she sees that Bellamy is similarly slumped against Clarke’s back, also struggling to catch his breath and remain upright. When Clarke finally speaks, Raven can feel her lips moving against her skin.

“So, we’ll call that one a draw, then?”

 

**_Frustration_ **

Raven is just starting to come to terms with the fact that she’s in a relationship with a pair of competitive fuckers — literally — when the game changes again. 

Clarke becomes restless during one of Bellamy’s frequent History Channel documentary marathons and Raven is unsurprised when she initiates a lazy makeout session. Clarke and Raven making out on the couch while Bellamy scowls and mutters angrily at Ancient Aliens is practically a ritual at this point. Clarke is clearly not in a hurry to get anywhere, all teasing touches and languid kisses, and Raven is totally into it. 

But after over an hour of tormenting, Raven is starting to squirm. Her panties are soaked and uncomfortable and Bellamy is still glued to the television, and Clarke has only progressed to light touching over the bra. 

_Seriously._

She tries to wiggle a hand under the waistband of Clarke’s tiny sleep shorts, but Clarke deftly captures Raven’s hand, bringing it back up to PG-rated territory. Raven practically growls in frustration. However, Clarke does make the concession of removing Raven’s bra, so that she can bring her lips down to Raven’s puckered nipples, and Raven groans in relief. Another few minutes of torture like this, and Clarke _still_ isn’t going any farther, so Raven decides to take matters into her own hands. She swings one leg over to straddle Clarke’s hips, dipping her own body low so that she can grind herself against Clarke’s pelvis. The friction is delicious, and Raven’s hips speed up of their own volition, even as Clarke’s mouth is still moving maddeningly slowly against her own. 

Finally - _finally!_ \- Clarke slips her hand down into Raven’s shorts and glides her fingers through Raven’s slick folds. Raven is almost embarrassed at the grateful hum that escapes her, but she’s can’t even care because _fucking finally_. But Clarke’s fingers are alternately _perfect_ and, without warning, suddenly teasing and too light and just torture, and this is definitely much much worse. Clarke knows Raven’s body almost as well as she knows her own, and she knows how to bring Raven right up to the edge, and then back her away from the precipice, only to bring her right back up again a minute later. And repeat. 

Clarke’s fingers are once again moving maddeningly slowly, and Raven tries to once again grind her hips down against Clarke’s pelvis, but the other girl is too fast, snaking her free hand down to still Raven’s movement.

Raven’s tries to sound threatening, but her voice instead comes out as a desperate choke. “Clarke…”

It clearly does not have the effect that Raven is going for, because Clarke only smiles innocently at her. “Do you want something, Raven?”

Suddenly, it all becomes painfully clear. Raven’s head snaps over to Bellamy; he hasn’t moved from the armchair, but he’s not even pretending to watch the television anymore. His eyes are dark and his arousal is evident, but he also looks _impressed_ as he watches them. 

_Fuckers._

Raven knows that she should call them out, put a stop to this insanity. But Clarke is still grinning smugly as her fingers continue their sweet torture, and her index finger pushes down in just the right place for just a moment, and Raven can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“Please, Clarke. I’m so close… Oh god, please…” And then almost as an afterthought, _”fuck you…_ ”

The reward is almost instantaneous. Clarke’s fingers sweep through her moisture to plunge inside Raven, and Clarke grinds the palm of her hand down on Raven’s clit. She thrusts her hand a few times, twisting and grinding as she goes, and suddenly Raven is coming so hard that she’s almost positive that she blacks out.

After a few minutes spent with her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder and Clarke’s hand tracing soothing patterns over her bare back, Raven finally works up the energy to lift her head and turn towards Bellamy. His attention is back on the History Channel, but his lips are quirked upwards, and there is a clear look of _admiration_ on his face.

She lets her head fall back to Clarke’s shoulder. “This is getting out of hand, guys.”

 

**_Apples to Apples_ **

It all finally comes to head when, ironically, Raven is occupied with giving Bellamy head. 

His fingers are tangled in her hair, his head thrown back and the tendons in his neck are tight and visible. He’s beautiful, and clearly Clarke is in agreement, as she leans forward to bite gently at his pulse point and then whisper in his ear. 

And then, Bellamy starts to talk. 

Dirty talk is not an abnormal thing for Bellamy. I mean, the guy clearly loves nothing better than a good monologue. And his voice, low and gravely in the best of times, is almost made for the activity. Raven has personally witnessed Clarke shivering in arousal just from hearing him talking about his grocery list. So, when he starts to speak — punctuated by the occasional gasp and moan — about how beautiful Raven is and how good her mouth feels and all of the things that he wants to do to both her and Clarke, Raven just groans a little around his dick, and continues what she’s doing. 

But as she continues for another couple minutes, swirling her tongue around the head of his penis as she sucks, Bellamy’s voice begins to falter. 

“Oh fuck, I’ve been thinking of you - uh…. I’ve been thinking about you and….. oh god. That feels so - mmmm, good.”

Raven can tell that he’s getting close and she twists her hand around the base of his cock. Bellamy’s hips jerk into her mouth in response.

And then she hears Clarke’s voice, low and teasing, and right next to Bellamy’s ear.

“ _That_ doesn’t count.” 

It takes a moment for the words to connect and when they do, Raven can only see red. She pulls her mouth off of Bellamy with an obscene ‘pop’ and sits up on her heels on the bed. Bellamy’s hips give one futile jerk up into empty air, and his eyes snap open in confusion and annoyance. 

“Is this another fucking _game_?”

They at least have the good sense to look contrite. 

Raven turns to Clarke abruptly. “And _you_! You told him what to do, didn’t you?” She scowls in sudden realization. “You’ve been _planning this in advance_. This _is_ a fucking game.”

Bellamy and Clarke meet each others eyes, and Clarke does that bottom-lip-biting thing that she does when she isn’t sure whether she’s supposed to feel guilty or whether she just wants to laugh. That absolutely does not make it better. 

Raven sighs, kind of in annoyance, but also just because she needs to _make a damn point or those two children are going to be bringing Battleship or Nerf guns into the bedroom next._ The sudden mental image makes her want to laugh, and so she turns away to find her underwear and her shirt, because they definitely don’t need any encouragement. 

“I’m out. Done. Come find me when you’re ready to have sex _like normal functional adults_.” And then she stalks out of the room towards the kitchen. Mostly for appearances. But they don’t need to know that.

Once in the safety of the kitchen, she allows a fond smile to overtake her face…. until she hears a low murmur of discussion from the bedroom. Bellamy’s words are quiet, clearly not meant for her ears, but she hears them anyway, and the scowl is suddenly back full-force.

“Best two out of three?”


End file.
